


Shot Through The Heart

by glinda4thegood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-09
Updated: 2011-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:52:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glinda4thegood/pseuds/glinda4thegood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is shot through the heart, and who's to blame? Some cupids give love a bad name . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot Through The Heart

_**FIC Supernatural: Shot Through The Heart**_  
Title: **Shot Through The Heart**  
Author: **Glinda**  
Rating: **R**  
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Cupid(s), OC  
Post Episode: My Bloody Valentine  
Warning: Egregious reference to song lyrics

  
_"He's not on the regular schedule, but there is precedent."_

Cherub third-class Erasmus snapped his fingers and a piece of parchment fluttered from the air to land on Cherub third-class Vickie's open palm. "He asked for help. Loudly and specifically asked for help."

Cherub Vickie noted the transcript details. "Sweetie. Dean Winchester wasn't asking for our help." She gestured vaguely Heavenward.

"Sometimes you don't get what you want," Erasmus said, smugly. "You get what you need."

"You filed a grievance." The parchment disappeared. "Against Castiel. What were you thinking?" Cherub Vickie curled one long, blonde ringlet around her finger. "Of all the first class crew, he's got the least sense of humor. Every cherub working earth knows you don't intercourse with Castiel. You don't intercourse with any of that garrison, you'll get your intercoursing wings plucked out one feather at a time."

Erasmus' lower lip quivered. "Dean Winchester hit me, Vickie. Disrespected me. While Castiel held me there. They tried to blame me for Famine's misdeeds. Why shouldn't I file a grievance?"

She looked at him with resigned affection. "You feel too much, Erasmus." She considered his downcast eyes. "Dean Winchester is always somewhere in the queue. If it makes you feel any better --" she paused and closed her eyes for a moment. "Yes. There will be an opportunity tomorrow morning, if you're quick on the draw, for a minor infatuation. If it makes you feel any better, do your job. Go for it."

Erasmus grabbed her and hugged for all he was worth. "I love love. Love promises something for everyone! You are the best supervisor ever."

~ ~ ~ ~

Castiel watched patiently as Dean came awake. During the long night watch over Sam in the panic room Dean had paced, left, and returned several times. He had consumed a large amount of alcohol, finally falling asleep on the basement floor. Now Dean unfolded from his seat on the floor, moving with brittle stiffness.

"Sam?" Dean's eyes focused past Castiel, on the iron door.

"Quiet for a couple of hours. He's sleeping."

"Good. I need coffee." Dean rolled his tongue over his lips and made a face of revulsion. "Coffee and aspirin."

With a backward glance at the panic room door, Castiel followed him upstairs. "Dean. Do you drink to excess to experience pleasure, or pain?"

"It's a sleep aid whose side effects may include shut the fuck up," Dean growled. "Make a pot of coffee. You've seen Bobby do it."

There was no coffee in the kitchen cupboard. Castiel stood by the counter and listened to the noises Dean made in the bathroom. Urination . . . taking a piss. The squeak from the medicine cabinet door. Profanity that did not add to his collection of informal phrases. Water splashing.

"Where the hell is Bobby? He's got three flavors of Tums in there, and an empty aspirin bottle." Dean's face was wet when he returned to the kitchen.

"There's no coffee." Castiel concentrated on listening for further sounds. "Bobby's coming."

"Morning." Bobby stopped in the kitchen doorway. In contrast to Dean he appeared well rested, almost satiated. "You look like something Bill the Cat hacked up, boy."

"You're out of aspirin," Dean said. "You're out of coffee. I'm dying and you got nothing to help."

"Boo hoo. Why am I the only one who gets to do the shopping around here?" Bobby looked between them with disgust.

"It is your house," Castiel said, pleased he knew the answer to this question. "Young family members are often thoughtless consumers of resources."

"Well, when the resources are consumed, they can get their own damn coffee." Bobby glared. "The two of you, make yourselves useful. Coffee, filters, aspirin, eggs, bread, milk and butter. And bring me back a paper." His voice dropped. "Sam?"

"He is sleeping." Castiel turned away from the bleak uncertainty he felt about Sam. "When he wakes in a few hours we can let him out."

~~~~

It was still too early for most commuters to be on the road. Morning seemed quiet, grey and empty as they pulled into the parking lot of the little quickie store. The place was worn, and shabby, but conveniently located not too far from Singer Salvage.

Dean parked next to the single car near the entrance. As they entered the store the light on the drink machine against the building flickered off and on, in counterpoint to the sign that flickered in the window by the front door.

 _oke_ flicker _pen_ flicker _oke_ flicker _pen_

Castiel stood for a moment, open to detect any intruding presence. He found nothing.

"Come on, Cas. Get the lead out."

Castiel let Dean usher him through the aisles. He listened closely as Dean explained each selection.

"Coffee: get a dark roast, Bobby likes that best. Cheapest filters. Generic aspirin work just fine. Eggs: extra large. Whole wheat bread, or you'll get the colon lecture. Skim milk and unsalted butter." Dean pointed. "Grab that."

Castiel selected a gallon of milk from the cooler, noting that different colored labels denoted different types of milk.

"You could do that on your own, right?"

Not a yes or no question, Castiel decided. "Do I look like a personal shopper to you?"

"Knowledge is power." Dean's attention snapped to the end of the aisle. A woman was bending to pull a box off the bottom shelf. Scalloped panty lines were visible on the tightly stretched black fabric of her tailored pants.

"Mmm. Blonde," Dean said as she stood. "Nice rack." He started to follow her toward the store's single register.

"We need a paper," Castiel said patiently. "The last item on your list. The _news_ rack is over here."

"That local one. Bobby reads that." Dean pointed. "Hurry up."

"These have headlines about unusual weather conditions." Castiel picked up a tabloid and cocked his head. "And alien babies. Perhaps Bobby would find this interesting."

As Castiel had known, by the time they got to the register the blonde was exiting. Dean watched her go with mild regret.

~~~~

_Erasmus waited in the parking lot, arrow nocked and ready, focused on Miss Tiffany Davis._

He slowed the moment, giving Dean every chance to walk out the door into his line of fire. But, drat the man, the moment passed. Miss Tiffany opened her car door and was gone.

Dean finally came out of the store, followed closely by Castiel. Loaded with groceries, Erasmus observed. It puzzled him why Vickie should be so concerned about this one. He was powerful, but totally whipped. Carrying groceries . . . The angel first-class passed Dean Winchester and paused, one hand on the car's back door. Viewed through a cupid's targeting array, the action had unexpected impact.

It would be a perfect shot, Erasmus thought dreamily. Straight through the hearts. It was only a minor infatuation, not a life mate arrow. By the time it wore off they would both have a better appreciation for the important work he did.

~~~~

"When did food get so expensive?"Dean eyed his remaining quarter, flipped it into the air.

It spun, Castiel thought, a lot more slowly than it should. Watching the quarter instead of his footing, Dean fumbled on the lip of the curb. With a continued sense of slow motion, Castiel saw Dean's leg shoot out from under him.

An errant wind brought a tiny _ping_ of sound from the Impala's rear view mirror, _tinged_ sideways into the front seat, then off a radio knob, upward through the windshield to _sproing_ off the radio antenna into a reverse angle, catch the quarter and send it shooting toward the store. Before it hit the ground a pile of cloth next to the vending machine extruded a hand, and plucked the quarter from the air.

Castiel touched his chest, feeling something vibrate against his heart. Disbelief and outrage segued to a vast, warm anticipation. He stared at the Impala, then, slowly turned to stare at the hand holding the quarter.

~~~~

_"Oh, intercourse."_

He hadn't been trying for a banked shot. Erasmus could see the path of his arrow as though it were lit by neon. Perfect entry through Castiel, but Dean had not remained in place. The arrow had, in quick succession, struck the Impala's rear view mirror, radio and antenna before deflecting toward the airborne quarter. Erasmus looked at Castiel's back, at the hand clutching Dean's quarter and decided it was time to continue other appointed rounds.

~~~~

A very small, elderly woman in a voluminous coat and aggressively tight kerchief clutched the quarter in her hand. Angel radiance spread from the coin to cast a nimbus around her body.

Castiel turned and surveyed the parking lot, rubbing absently at his chest. Tell-tale traces of cherub activity still hovered in the air. The Impala glowed with a bright pink aurora.

"Cas. Let's go. Swamp Thing can keep the quarter." Dean stood impatiently by the driver's side door.

"Don't be rude." Castiel opened the car door and placed the groceries on the seat. He turned and extended his hand. "My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord. Would you like to have breakfast with me?"

She slipped the quarter into an unseen pocket. "You tell him not to be rude, then you make fun of an old woman? Angel my ass."

Castiel considered her rejection. He took two steps back and concentrated. With a rush he felt the aspect of his wings, a symbol chosen by his creator to communicate directly to human creatures, unfurl above him.

"Holy shit." Her faded blue eyes sparkled. "You can have the quarter back. I'm not ready to go yet."

"He's an angel, not Death. I've seen Death -- totally different dude. What the hell, Cas?" Dean shielded himself behind the car door. "Someone's going to notice."

"Bobby will make pancakes and eggs for us." Castiel held out his hand again. How strange it felt, to try and coax a human into spending time with him. Her bright eyes reminded him of the chipmunks who scolded from Bobby's wood piles. "You're hungry."

"Yes. And after I clean the bathroom for Mr. B, he'll give me coffee and leftover pizza slices." She sidled around the front of the vending machine.

"Please." Castiel placed himself in front of the store entry. "I've been struck with an arrow from the bow of a cherub third-class. It's only a minor infatuation, but right now I need to spend time with you. I can ameliorate the effect, it won't last long. Would it be so bad to spend a few hours with me, take a ride in this amazing vehicle, and eat a good breakfast?"

"Dude. Really? You got shot by a cupid?" Dean looked around. "He gone?"

"Oh yes." Castiel rubbed his chest. "I'll find him later."

She considered the two of them. "I saw the wings. I don't think I'm kicking it today. This is the wildest story I've ever heard, but breakfast sounds good." She held out her hand. "My name's Janet."

Janet's hand was quite clean, her short nails coated with transparent polish. Castiel took it solemnly.

"This is Dean. We can ride in the back seat. It's very spacious and comfortable. Dean had sex with --"

"Filter, Cas. We've talked about filtering."

"Of course." Castiel transferred the groceries to the front seat, then handed Janet into the back. He sat quite close beside her.

"So," Janet gave him a sideways look, "shot by a cupid? Stupid cupid, I have to say. Good looking young man like you, and I'm several decades past my best-used-by date."

"He was aiming for Dean," Castiel said. "He's a klutz. Or Dean is, I'm not clear on the exact reason the shot went amiss."

"Dude!" Dean stared in the rear view mirror. "He was trying to shoot _us_?"

"I believe so." Castiel found he was rubbing his chest again. He moved his arm casually in back of Janet's shoulders.

"Don't go forth in wrath." Janet patted his knee. "He might be the same cupid that brought me together with the love of my life. It was like a flash of lightning, when I found Nellie. We had 20 glorious years together before she passed."

"You're . . . you had . . ." Dean shut his mouth and concentrated on the road.

"You had a woman partner who passed?" Castiel asked gently. "But you have no romantic interest now?"

"Cas, even if she had hormones left, she wouldn't be interested in you," Dean said.

"You really are a very rude, obnoxious boy." Janet pulled the scarf from her head and itched vigorously. Long silver-gray hair fell around her shoulders. "I was married to Stanley for 25 years, and I did love him. Died too young, Stanley did. After he passed I met Nellie. We were true soul mates, Nellie and I. The sex was better with her, not because she was a woman. Because we got each other." Janet paused. "Although to be fair, she was a wizard with her tongue."

"Love transcends," Castiel murmured. "Let the marriage of true minds admit no impediment."

"Bill Shakespeare. Lord love you, it's nice to have an intelligent adult conversation. I'm staying at the Women's Center right now. Most of the conversations there are about loss, grief, rage, empowerment, diapers and lack of feminine products." Janet shook her head. "That's all past for me now."

"Once in your life you find someone who will turn your world around." Castiel looked vaguely unsettled. "I'm going to find that cherub third-class and ream . . ."

"Young man. Dean," Janet leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. "You said you've seen death. I guess someone who drives around with an angel could have seen death. You implied death is male."

"Yeah. Skinny, cadaverous guy," Dean said. "Looks pretty much how you'd think."

"I think when death comes for me, it will be a woman." Janet relaxed into Castiel's shoulder. "Tall, thin, elegant, hair like Cruella deVille, smoking a cigarette in an ivory holder. She will smile at me and offer me a cigarette. I used to smoke," Janet said pensively. "Why is it that so many pleasures end up being bad for your health?"

Castiel rubbed a hand over the seat, noticing for the first time the cool texture of the leather. "Would you like to hear Dean tell us about his car? It's very special."

"Don't you have an angel girl friend? Why is your heart free and susceptible to cupid's arrows?" She flashed a challenging look at Dean's reflection in the mirror. "I may not have hormones, but I can spot a sweet dish."

"This vessel is male. Angels are gender neutral." The words felt strange as he said them, not quite true although he knew they were. "Angels don't procreate. They don't have sexual relationships. Angels are siblings, but not brother or sister. So, no girl or boy friends."

"Well. That just sucks." She sat silent for a minute. "But you look like a man. You feel like a man," she patted his knee again. "Your heart reacted to Cupid's arrow."

"My vessel knows about being human. I have to use that knowledge to use the vessel. Do you know the term _cognitive dissonance_?" The minor infatuation was already wearing off. In its place Castiel felt the first stirrings of a sensation he got around Dean, Sam and Bobby. Could Janet become a -- friend?

The Impala slowed, then stopped. They were already in front of Bobby's home. Dean quickly exited the car, coming around to collect the groceries. "Harold and Maude. We're home. Bobby is going to love this."

Castiel watched him enter the house. "The three human men who live here are very special to me. I can't explain why. As an angel, I should hold all His children in equal esteem. As a warrior that usually meant slaughtering them indiscriminately."

"Really?" Janet sounded interested. "I get that. I was a grade school teacher for years. It was one of the professions women chose by default when I was growing up. Children are never equal, and usually in need of a good chastising."

She made no move to get out of the car. Castiel found he was content to sit and study the interior of the Impala. The dashboard needed dusting and the floor in front of the back seats would benefit from vacuuming.

"What are you doing here, anyway? With these people?" Janet asked.

"I believe God sent me to protect them, and assist in their work." Castiel glanced toward the house. "There is a phrase -- diamond in the rough. Inside are three diamonds in the rough that he is polishing. I'm helping."

Janet considered his answer. "I think you have an interesting future ahead of you, Castiel. Love, like angels, is gender neutral. While sex is one of God's greatest gifts to humans, love is more than sex. As you said yourself, love transcends." She rubbed her hand over his knee again, and sighed. "You promised me breakfast."

He held the car door for her, helped her out, then paused for a moment to polish the door handle with a bit of his coat. Dean really was neglecting her upkeep.

"Got the strangest woman, believe it, this chick's . . ." Dean broke off as they walked into the kitchen.

"Bobby, I told Janet you would make pancakes and eggs for our breakfast." Castiel pulled Janet forward. "This is . . ."

"Bobby Singer. When did you grow that mustache?"

"Dammit! Janet Margolies? Mrs. Margolies!" Bobby looked like he'd seen a zombie. "Is that you?"

~~~~

  
Breakfast was an unexpected success. Castiel watched Janet eat, watched Dean and Bobby laugh at her stories of third-grade misdemeanors. The cupid's compulsion had nearly faded completely by the time the dishes were cleared. At Janet's request they drove her back to the store and left her in the parking lot.

"I have to clean the bathroom for Mr. B." Janet stretched on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "A kiss for luck. You need to talk, you know where to find me." She reached back and patted his ass before she walked away. "Transcend, Castiel. Thank you for the pancakes."

Castiel waited until she entered the store before . . .

~~~~

_"Where is he?"_

Cherub third-class Vickie found herself frozen in a modified stationary panic. Her hands, the only parts of her that could move at all, flew up to cover her mouth. "Oh intercourse. Castiel?" Vickie whispered through her fingers.

"The word is fuck. I'd like a fucking explanation from that fucking cherub third-class who shot me."

The eyes of his vessel were very blue, Vickie noticed with interest, and full of angelic wrath. The first-class crew was very good with the wrath, she thought with a tinge of envy.

"Erasmus is missing, for the moment. I've been picking up his assignments. He doesn't have a long attention span. He should show up soon," Vickie confided. "He meant to shoot Dean Winchester and Miss Tiffany Davis."

"He tried to shoot Dean Winchester and me. Disrespect of this magnitude from a cherub is not acceptable." Castiel glared at her. Looming. "You are his supervisor?"

"Yes," Vickie admitted, weakly. He really could loom, something about that trench coat. For the first time she wondered if nakedness wasn't unimaginative.

"When he returns tell him if he ever uses that bow on another angel, I'll find him and cram him into a homeless chihuahua."

"Yes." Vickie found she could move her feet again. "The infatuation has dissipated?"

He tugged at his tie. "Almost. By the time I get done polishing the Impala, the mark should be completely gone."

"The Impala?" Vickie whispered. Erasmus had totally screwed the pooch with this prank.

"Nearly what I was thinking." Castiel straightened his shoulders and the wrath died away. "Tell him -- a homeless male chihuahua which I will drop into a pen of Doberman bitches in heat."

"Oh." Vickie closed her mouth. "Yes, sir."

Castiel studied her. "You cherubs must be very familiar with humans and all the aspects of love. I know your colleague is very enthusiastic about his work. You appear to be slightly more intelligent and sensible." He stopped, bit his bottom lip, then continued. "How would you describe what love is to humans? I understand wrath, I understand war, I understand battle. I'm not sure I understand love."

"Love is not wrath, or war, or a battlefield. You know the literature as well as I."

"Love bears all things," Castiel said, slowly, "believes all things, hopes for all things, endures all things."

"That's it," Vickie smiled radiantly. "The best of them abide in faith, hope and love . . . and the greatest of all these is love." It made her feel better just staying the words.

"Thank you for the reminder." Castiel gathered his power. "You might scare him more if you put on some clothes. This outfit." He shared a memory from one of Dean's magazines. "Be graphic about the Dobermans."

Cherub third-class Vickie examined her black leather and lace outfit, idly flicking the small scourge that accessorized the wide snakeskin belt. Knowing Erasmus, he was probably hiding somewhere tropical. He was very fond of beaches. She smiled and gathered her own power. Time to get out of the office for a while and do a little on site supervising.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
 **Happy Valentine's Day!**

 _Roll credits . . ._  
You Can't Always Get What You Want, The Rolling Stones  
Love Boat Theme, Jack Jones  
What's Love Got To Do With It, Tina Turner  
You Give Love a Bad Name, Bon Jovi  
Heaven, Bryan Adams  
Love Hurts, Incubus  
Stupid Cupid, Connie Francis (Greenfield  & Sedaka)  
Big Ten Inch Record, Aerosmith  
I Feel Too Much, Celine Dione  
Love Is A Battlefield, Pat Benatar  
Rocky Horror Picture Show . . . Dammit!  
We've Only Just Begun, Carpenters  
Leather and Lace, Stevie Nicks&Don Henley  



End file.
